Scars and Hearts :and Valentines challenge!:
by Tears of Insanity
Summary: Raven's point of view on her past as a cutter and her boyfriend, Robin. Takes place on Valentine's Day. RaeRob. Challenge inside. WINNERS HAVE BEEN POSTED.
1. Chapter 1

**Valentine's Day Challenge:**

Hey, guys! As you all know, Valentines Day is coming up. I have a challenge for you, should you choose to accept it. Write a Rae/Rob one shot - minimum of 1000 words (no limit) - that takes place on Valentine's Day. It can be dramatic, fluffy, angsty, romantic, whatever. Any rating. Any point of view. Send me the link to your fic and, out of them all, I'll decide which one I like the best (as well as two runner-ups.)

The person who gets first place gets to choose any kind of fic (Teen Titans) that they want me to write. If you want a specific plot, fine. You can even give me an exact number of words, if you so desire. An exact number of chapters. If you want to make it hard, a number of times to use a certain word in it. Humorous? Romantic? All your choice. Or you can give me free-range and I'll just write something up. Whatever you want. It'll be dedicated to that person forever and always - my gift to you.

I'm sure you're now wondering, _'What about the runner-ups?'_ Well, I'm not going to leave them dry, of course. I'll write a one-shot for each of them. Again, they can decide what they want to happen in it or any of that stuff. And just because it's a one-shot doesn't mean it has to be short - I can do 8000 words in it, if you want.

The deadline is the end of February 14th. Now, I won't, of course, yell at you and refuse if you send it in at like 12:02 on February 15th. But be realistic, please. Don't send it in too late. If you get grounded or something and have it typed up but don't get to send it until after the deadline, whatever - we'll work something out. Just try your best.

Of course, I'm writing one, too. I know it's two weeks early, but I figure that if I'm going to make a challenge, I'd better be able to do it myself. The starting point, by the way, is now. If you decide 30 seconds after reading this that you're going to go write something and send it to me tonight, more power to you - it definitely counts.

You can send in multiple entries. If, over the next couple weeks, you send one in but then get another idea and want to send in that also, that's fine with me. It ups your chance of winning. There is no limit.

You can either e-mail me, message me, AIM me (SN is on my profile), or post the review in a link. They should be written on Fanfiction, of course. If you want to be known by a different name other than what your pen name is, say so - and tell me what you want to be called. If you post the link as a guest, you'll have to tell me who you are or else I'll have to assume it's anonymous.

So, with that all explained and everything, contact me if you have any further questions.

**Scars and Hearts**

**(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)**

I hesitantly ran the tips of the fingers on my right hand over the pink-white scars that decorated my left fore-arm. They were old, now, and fading - I hadn't cut myself in two years, to the day. Valentine's Day. Admittedly, it was one o'clock in the morning, but it counted. Still, even in the dark, they showed against my pale skin, shiny and slim and glaring. Despite the fact that all of my teammates acted as though they had forgotten all about what I'd done to myself so long ago, I still felt their gazes linger on my arm when I wore a sleeveless shirt or my pajamas. They wouldn't soon forget, and neither would I.

I wore a pale violet camisole that ended an inch above my belly button and a pair of old gray sweats that Robin had decided he didn't want about 3 1/2 years ago, rolled down several times at the waist to fit. They still covered my heels and part of my toes, and if I didn't roll them exactly 4 times, minimum, they slid down several inches. My hair stopped an inch or two below my shoulders, now, just so much that I could look down and see the violet locks.

Just now, though, it didn't matter what I wore or why I wore it, or how long my hair was. I couldn't keep my mind off of that day when I was 17. It was a little ritual I couldn't help but do. I did it last year, too - I stayed up until around 11:55, then, while everyone else slept, I crept up onto the roof and remembered as I didn't let myself remember any other time. It was something absolutely necessary - if I forgot, I might do it again.

_I stared blankly at the razor blade I held in my hand and again at the arm that I was planning on cutting with it. It was crisscrossed all over with long, slim scabs or old scars that had already healed, as well as newer ones that were angry, red, and bloody if I put too much pressure on them from the past couple of days._

_This was my high; my addiction._

_Slowly, I pressed the bladed edge onto the surface of my arm. It didn't matter if I ran into a scab or something. It was all going to do the same thing anyway. For a moment, I didn't move it, didn't slice - I enjoyed the anxiety that made my heart race; the exhileration. Only a second, though, then I did it. I brought the blade down hard and swift against the back of my forearm, watching with a shudder that was half revulsion and half relief as the cut was made and blood began to rise to the surface._

_I repeated this several times, not in any specific order or pattern. I did what I needed to - the bare minimum. I knew what to do if the alarm went off or someone came in without knocking. I could just pull my leotard sleeve down - it was dark enough that, if the blood soaked it anyway, it wouldn't be seen. And if it was? Well, I had a cloak._

_It was around 11:00 on February 13th. Tomorrow would be Valentine's Day. It didn't matter to me. I cut again, watching it the whole time, pleased and annoyed as the blood oozed and dripped and spread around my arm. So messy._

_I continued this way until well past 2:00 in the morning. Lately, I had to cut more and more at one time to feel satisfied. One or two just didn't cut it - no pun intended. My arm was a bloody, shredded mess by the time I finally got up, washed off the razor, and put it away. Exhausted, I took a wet, white rag and began dabbing at the arm, wiping away the blood - some was caked on and required harder rubbing, which, in turn, made it bleed again. I knew it would, but I felt better if I felt like I was doing something about it._

_I didn't know why I did this. I had friends, I had a boyfriend, I had a life. I wasn't going to end it, either - I didn't slit my wrists, I didn't find myself holding a knife to my throat or standing on the roof, thinking about how easy it would be to jump off and not fly. I didn't do any of that. I was just fine the way I was._

_I changed into my pajamas, tossed the rag into the laundry bin to be washed, and crawled under my covers to go to sleep._

_That was my mistake._

_I woke up the next morning and got changed, chucking the previous day's clothing in the bin before I got dressed. I walked to the laundry room, not even bothering to say hello before I did so. Robin, if he saw me, might get annoyed, but it wouldn't last long. He probably wouldn't acknowledge the date, either, until noon or so._

_I opened up one of the three washing mashines and began unloading my stuff into it. As I was setting my cloak in - only the second of the several items I had to wash today - Robin walked in. He smiled, not looking upset at all, and walked over to peck my cheek. I smiled back, kissed him on the lips, and then turned back to my cloak._

_His eyes, of course, drifted down to the bloody towel that laid, now revealed, in my bin. Confusion, concern, and then alarm crossed over his face as he looked back up at me. "Rae, if you were hurt yesterday when Cinderblock threw you, you should have said something. Cyborg could've stitched you up or something. Where'd you get cut? Let me see."_

_"It's nothing,"I said, the lie coming easily. I'd done this before. "Really. Just a scratch on my leg- it'll be fine. Besides, I probably shouldn't be undressing in front of you when any of the others could walk in at any given moment." The end was merely for his satisfaction, and I added on a teasing smile for effect. It seemed to work._

_"Alright," he said, shrugging. "If it gets infected or something, though, let me know. There's this new cream shit in the infirmary that does wonders."_

_"I will," I promised, nodding. "Happy V-Day, by the way."_

_The rest of the few minutes longer that I spent loading my stuff was just the normal, idle conversation that went along with having known someone for years._

_I would never have guessed that while we were eating lunch and Robin excused himself from the table to go to the bathroom, he was actually back in the laundry room. My clothes, now washed and dried and waiting to be folded and returned to my dresser, were still in the drier._

_I didn't even notice what he was holding when he came back to the table until he had set them down in front of me. Four rags - three of which had been used in the past week or so. At first, I only thought, '_Oh, so that's why I haven't been able to find them,_' but then I realized what was being implied._

_Slowly, I looked up, making my face look curious and questioning. "What-"_

_"Don't." Robin's voice was hard and cold as he cut me off. Everyone else, obviously just as oblivious as I was pretending to be, looked between me, the rags, and Robin with wide eyes, trying to understand. "Just don't. Listen. You see this purple one?" He held up a pale violet wash-towel with brown stains covering it that I'd used about a week and a half ago. "I found it in your laundry. And these other two?" Robin held up the other two that had been used in the past week, both white and also dotted with dry blood that the washer didn't seem to have gotten out. "I found them, too. And then - today - there was this one." He held up the last one - the one I'd used early this morning - which was almost completely brown from my blood. "Lift up your sleeves."_

_For a moment, I just stared at him, speechless. The others were just starting to understand. Beast Boy stared at me in alarm, Starfire looked confused and unsure, and Cyborg sat back, shaking his head and clearly waiting for me to deny Robin's between-the-line-accusations; to explain. I didn't._

_"I'm not going-" I began but, again, I was cut off._

_"You damn well are," he growled. Robin reached foreward and ripped both my sleeves in an easy move with both hands, up to the elbows. He glanced over my right arm and, for a moment, a hint of relief crossed his face. Then his eyes drifted to my left._

_Immediately he threw my arms away from him, jumping back in horror. My arm was red and brown, the newer cuts beginning to bleed a little from the pressure his hands had put on them. I didn't look at anyone, pretending I didn't hear the curses and pleas that made no sense coming from all of my fellow team members. The only one who remained absolutely silent was Robin._

_By the end of the next hour, I was in a mental hospital with all of my teammates sitting around me, in the empty (except for a bed, a TV, a table, and chairs) room that I would call home for the next couple of months._

I shuddered, my hand no longer caressing but now squeezing the arm that I had once been intent on destroying. I sat on the edge of the roof, overlooking the ocean, my feet dangling above the empty space below. I was so entranced that I failed to notice when the soft padding of footsteps lead over to where I sat, until the black-pants-clad form of my boyfriend sat down beside me. He wore no shirt, as he rarely did at night. Robin.

For a while, he just stared out over the water as I had, saying nothing and not looking at me. Several minutes ticked by. My right hand still clutched my fore arm, as if I was trying to make the scars disappear - or, at least, keep them invisible.

I knew what they all automatically thought of whenever one of them saw me awake in the middle of the night, just as I knew that Robin had come up here more to make sure that I wasn't cutting myself again than anything. Not that he'd ever admit that, or that I'd bring it up. None of us wanted to talk about it.

After about 5 minutes, he finally turned his body slightly to look at me. His eyes, as always, drifted down to my arm. Slowly and silently, he took my right hand and pried it away from my arm. I tensed, but if he noticed, he didn't do anything. Robin's gloves were off and he slowly ran his fingers over my scars, much as I had done only minutes earlier. I didn't comment, didn't move, didn't breathe. I didn't know what would happen if I did.

I had no idea how long we sat there like that. When Robin looked up at me for the first time, I could see - just barely - a slight wetness on his cheeks, glistening ever-so-lightly in the moonlight. My heart clenched and my stomach knotted. I hated myself for what I'd done, and I knew I always would. Hated that I'd been so stupid, so weak, so thoughtless, so cold. Hated, hated, hated. And I wasn't the only one who had suffered from it.

He wasn't crying any more, though, and I didn't know how much he'd been crying just now. One tear? Two? Sobs? He hadn't moved, so I couldn't tell.

Robin pulled me into a tight embrace, and I gratefully buried my face in his chest while he kissed my hair. My eyes closed and I felt my shoulders relax. I was safe here. Robin wouldn't let anything happen to me and, more importantly, he wouldn't let me do anything to myself.

I fell asleep that way and, when I woke up hours later, I was laying on the cold roof with one of my cloaks on top of me, acting as a blanket. _Robin must've gotten it for me, _I thought groggily, opening my eyes to make sure he was still around. _How thoughtful._

I spotted him sitting cross-legged on the edge again, this time watching the sun rise. Yawning slightly and stretching, I walked over to him. "Morning," I murmured, more as a warning. I wanted to give him a chance to cover his tears again if he was crying - not so much more him, though, as for me. Selfish as it seemed, I didn't want to see that again.

He turned, though, and his face was dry. "G'morning, beautiful."

I offered him my hand and he took it, standing up without actually tugging on it. We walked downstairs together and into the room. The others were, for once, awake already and Beast Boy grinned suggestively at Robin's half-naked state. I resisted the urge to walk over and smack him, but just barely. Robin didn't.

We all exchanged valentines and little gifts, but Robin saved mine for last. The others had cleared out, probably to pig out on their chocolate without everyone else seeing, so it was just the two of us in the living room. He slowly handed me a blue, heart-shaped box with a gold ribbon on top.

I opened it, staring at his face the entire time, and didn't look down until I had it all open.Inside was a large, white-chocolate heart. Words had been carved into it - by the looks of it, by Robin, with a toothpick or needle or something. It read, _'It's okay to remember,'_ and, on the bottom, in smaller letters, _'I love you anyway.' _

Tears sprang into my eyes but I fought them back, looking back up to him and trying to convey with my face how I felt. It was hard, seeing as I didn't know how I felt, just that my chest was tight with a whole new, better kind of feeling. If I'd trusted my voice, I would have told him that, but I didn't. So I just hoped.

Robin seemed to understand. Softly, he murmured, "Happy Valentine's Day."

I realized with a small smile and a flood of warmth that it was.

**(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)--(♥)**

I'm going to be completely honest - I absolutely loved writing that. I was unsure in the beginning how it was going to turn out, but I truly enjoyed it. Don't forget to review.

Thanks,

Tears of Insanity


	2. CONTEST WINNERS

**Contest Winners:**

1st place - dARKgIRLrAVENgRAYSON14 with her story _Change of Perspective._

There were no other placings, but I had another entry from RabulaTasa - _Nothing Ventured_. It didn't completely comply with my standards, but for all of you out there who don't mind BB/Rae, you should definately read it. It was amazingly well written, and we came to an agreement, so I'm going to be writing a oneshot for him as well - Cy/Jinx, centered around Cyborg.

dARKgIRLrAVENgRAYSON14, please AIM me or PM me or e-mail me or whatever you want to do and tell me the "rules" of the story I'll be writing for you.

RabulaTasa, if there's anything else you want included or any other specifications, let me know **before** February 21, 2008.

Thanks, guys! Watch out for the new additions!

Thanks,

Tears of Insanity


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